 | The Blind Lady |  |
ACT 2.
SCEN. 1.
Enter King, and Albertus.Alb.
It was this day, Sir, that he intended the surprise;
And, notice given my son, with such few men
As he could get in readinesse, he hasted thither.
Kin.
'Tis well; but take heed there be no foul play in't.
For Mironault has ever appear'd
A subject fit to ruine mean suspitions.
Alb.
Love, Sir, can alter all; none more than I
Did hear (and wonder, with a pittying thought)
This error of his hopefull Youth; but when I think
He is a Man, and Youth dwells in his veins,
That still prepares for Beauty and Ambition,
The easie heart. Then look upon the Princesse,
And see in her the pain and pride of Nature,
Her fresh unsullied beauty, that would tempt
The gods to gaze and love; I could almost forgive—
—but must believe.
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Ha!
Alb.
To add unto the power of Love, and all those joyes
Her heavenly beauty brings a Kingdom too:
Crowns the ambition of his high-fed youth,
That makes all dangers lesse, from whose high top
They see it lessen'd in the common vale, and onely fit
To tame the spirits of the meaner minds.
—he that dares do,
Will act what his ambition tempts him to.
Kin.
I know not; I would bee just to all, and would be safe;
And Injuries are as unpleasing to me as Injustice,
I would not bear the one, or act the other.
When malice spreads a rancour in the breast,
That needs a policy to bear it forth,
The minds of Kings most think to fit with jealousie,
As ever apt for that; believing still,
That all such fears dwells with their height of glory.
Take heed, my Lord, that this so loose opinion
Leads not your tongue, and casts that brand on me.
I believe well of all. On farther proof
I shall think best of you.
Alb.
Would I were well off.
[aside.
We have not yet (Great Sir) so little left
Of kindness to our selves, to play with Thunder;
Nor yet so mean—
A thought of you, to let you live in danger.
Heaven knows all the ambition that now rules our thoughts;
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Is to appear loyall to you, we are as free,
(Whilst you are so from danger), as a young Lamb
From hate or malice.
King.
Nay my Lord, you do mistake, if you believe
You suffer in my thoughts, I am prepar'd
Still to reward your care, equally so
To punish or preserve his crime, or innocence.
When Kings do fall from this, and let each wind
Conduct them with its giddinesse;
Their Kingdoms at the last, must suffer ship-wrack.
Perhaps your innocence, may once as well
Suffer unheard, from some malitious tongue:
I never yet harbour'd an ill opinion,
Rais'd from suspition, or a meaner thought
From others envy, nor yet forget
To cherish those, whose loyalties are greatest.
Justice is still impartiall, and all Kings,
Should only hold her scales: he that strives
To weigh down one with power, is unjust
To that Great King, that put him first in trust;
Alber.
I'me lost—
[aside.
King.
But my Lord; we give you thanks now for your early care,
We would have none discourag'd, to be loyall,
'Tis that which will adorn you here,
And help you to Eternity hereafter,
Whilst men are just, pleasing rewards will live
Within their breasts; greater then I can give.
[Exit.
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Hee's gone.—
—I would his honesty were too,
That fits upon him like so fit a garment,
The workman's paid, to have the credit of it.
Hee'l help the gods to many customers.
How now!
Enter a messenger.
Mes.
My Lord;—
Alber.
From whence comest thou,—Ha,—
What newes? my mind mis-gives.—
Mes.
From your Son.
Alber.
Why, what's the newes?
Mes.
But ill,—when that your son
Had round beset the Castle, and all thought sure,
The gallant Mironault, in his fearlesse mind
Weighing the bonds of death, and of an enemy,
In perfect scales; the first appear'd the lightest,
And through one Port, bravely with his two friends,
Issued like Lightning which foretells a Clap,
And Thunder follow'd too: whilst in despight
Of their resistance, through their lives
He forc'd his way and safety.—
Alb.
And so escap't?
Mes.
Yes, but they are still pursuing; the Princesse too,
When that your son appear'd, as if her eyes
Had borrow'd, rage from the afrighting danger,
That Mironault was in; upon her brow
Inthron'd it with revenge, and so with threats,
Left him unto his fears, who by me
Desires you to retire straight from Court,
Whither the Princesse now directs her haste,
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Is left to make Conditions. In the mean time,
He's still pursuing Mironault.
Alb.
'Tis unhappy.
Mess.
Necessity has left no other means
Without this, he bids me tell you,
You may dye tamely.
Alb.
Well, I must go; it is the fate of guilty men,
That such should seek at safety through more crimes.
Men are unhappy when they know not how
To value Peace without its losse;
And from the want learn how to use,
What they could so ill manage when enjoy'd.
Ambition gives this blindnesse, yet permits
The eyes to gaze upon her tempting baits;
But in attempting, not what dangers are,
They see the Throne, and not the blazing Star.
Thus foolish his ungovern'd youth
Has made us both alike,
Who, rather than to share a common good,
Ventur'd through danger at uncertain glory:
Nor could my power or prayers perswade him from it.
With such a grief the Ruler of the day
Shook his illustrious tresses, when he heard
The ambitious Phaeton make his bold Request,
—who did prefer
Before the counsell of the god himself,
The long'd-for glories of his glittering Throne.
Yet Phœbus mourn'd, the bonds of Nature tye
Faster then our own good or honesty.
[Exit.
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SCEN. 2.
Enter Princess, Phylena.Prin.
That I had wings, Phylena; this revenge
Justice it self will follow.
Phyl.
Pray heaven, Madam, no designer
Has been before us.
Prin.
It is my fear.
Phyl.
But yet,
You may be confident of your father's temper,
Which does dispence Justice with deliberation
Besides your interest.
Prin.
Would we could learn what were become of him.
They still pursue him, sure; and heaven preserve
His noble life from an untimely fate.
How the State-rascalls too were pleased
With the suspition of a trecherous danger;
And grew as busie as a new wak't Fly,
At the first news of Summer.
Phyl.
There is a basenesse runs through all their veins,
And ranckles in their bloods, which to their children
Descends; a loath'd Inheritance.
Prin.
But who are these?
Enter Amione and Follower.
Phyl.
A very handsom person.
Prin.
Extreamly fair, I swear; she bends this way.
Amio.
Excellent Princesse—
[she kneels.
Pardon the rude griefs of a distressed Maid,
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(Which sends a comfort upon pleased beholders)
To see and pitty; you, that nature gave
Perfections above all; 'tis you alone
We must believe excells in goodnesse too.
Nothing that's ill can have so fair a dwelling.
You shall have still a Virgin's prayer,
That yours may ne're successlesse fly
To those above, that those fair blossoms
Never have cares for to disturb their calmnesse,
Or force a wrincle on those snowy plains;
But may the beauty of a peace within,
I reserve and equall those your outward lustres.
Prin.
Rise, pretty Maid, you should have ask'd and tri'd,
Whether at first I had been worth these prayers.
She must be very good that does deserve 'em.
See, Phylena, flowers, I swear,
she rises weeping
Receive not so much sweetnesse from fresh drops,
As she from those. Her grief adds to her sweetnesse.
What is it, gentle Maid, you would desire?
Promise your self, if I can help you in't.
Amio.
The gods reward you. Let me but blush,
And I will say, the act may too; he is too near
That I should tell you more. And yet, me-thinks,
He does deserve as much as I can say;
And his cause named to my poor heart,
Seems eloquence enough to move a pitty.
Pardon my disturbed passions.
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Nay, fairest Maid—
You injure me and your own hopes together,
To keep me in suspence: I would as willingly
Yield you my aid, as you could haste to ask it,
For the blest subject of your fair opinion.
Amio.
I do not doubt your goodnesse; pardon the throng
Of all my tedious griefs. Know then,
You best of Princesses, for sure his name
Has reach'd your ears, the unhappy Mironault,
That much deserv'd to live, is like to fall
By bloody and unworthy hands.
Prin.
O Phylena! I'me lost.
[aside.
In that beauty is all my comfort buried.
Phyl.
Madam, what do you mean?
Madam, for heaven's sake; why, Madam?
Prin.
I prethee let me go, thou art too cruell.
I shall enjoy peace undisturb'd hereafter.
Phyl.
But hear her out, and do but search the truth,
Then I will let you die. I would not for the world
Any should guesse the cause.
Prin.
Alas!
Phyl.
Why, if they do, they cann't condemn the grief.
Prin.
O Phylena, when Love has entred in the outward Forts,
Yet there is still a small reserve of Reason,
Which Love laughs at, rather than thinks it worth
His rage or storming; for he knows it must
Perish and starve, when the relief
Of all the nobler Faculties are kept out
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All the attempts I fain would make against him.
Amio.
I see I am decreed to all misfortunes,
she speaks as no minded.
That I should now disturb you too, who, heaven knows,
I willingly would please. Why do you turn
Away your head? How often have I heard
His prayers sent to heaven for your joys,
That now denies to look upon his woes?
I'le kneel again, for in such a cause
It were impiety to rise successelesse.
Nothing but Seas and Winds are deaf to prayers,
And Beasts to mercy; who would expect
A hidden storm in undisturbed skies?
Or in that clearer breast a cruelty?
If you deny, I'le grow a fixed Monument,
Still to upbraid your rigour.
Prin.
O Phylena, why do you let me languish?
In her beauty dwells an undoing lustre.
Phyl.
What mean you, Madam? can you believe
The world can shew a subject for your jealousie?
Amio.
I see I grow a trouble, I durst have sworn
You had been more charitable. How often have I heard
The now unpittied Mironault affirm,
You were the treasure of this world's perfections;
And wondred any thing but your fair self
Should know what joys were. Perhaps you too
Believe as much, or else you could not think
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Given you a Brother, and your early loves
Blest undisturb'd from Nature's fruitfull Cradle,
You would have begg'd—as now—
His hopelesse sister does.
But sure I should have pittied more.
And yet perhaps our interests makes us partiall:
Yes I could wish I had your power to try.
Phyl.
Now, Madam—
Prin.
Forgive me, gentle Maid; it was the power
Of thy told griefs that seiz'd my faculties,
And left me able to do nought but grieve.
Forgive the time I lost to share with thee:
You may forgive the injuries of kindnesse.
And though my self were witnesse to the action
Thy griefs made it a new afflicting story.
Each storm renews in Merchants minds
The story of the shipwrack. Nor do I blush
To avow this, since I must not lose
The justnesse of my breast, that does believe
His innocence above suspition.
Amio.
May heaven inspire you to wish well,
And grant your wishes too, you might have then,
Perhaps, a joy as great as he would have,
Did he but know you pitty him.
Prin.
In the performance then of what I say,
He will have more; which I so much wish him
That you shall witnesse all pursued with haste.
Nor shall you be a stranger longer to me.
Yet I shall blush, although I give you leave
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Now spent in grass or leaves, would be his injury.
And we may ruine, what we would relieve,
Should we without attempting succour grieve.
[Exeunt.
SCEN. 3.
Enter Mironault, Hyppasus, Pysenor.Pys.
Would I were a Dog, and could lick my self whole.
I shall be as fly-blown, as a ruine cheese,
How i'st Hyppasus!
Hyp.
But scurvy, would we might rest.
Miro.
O me;
'Tis an unhappinesse, that I should bring
You into these misfortunes, you have deserved
Better of me, and yet you may forgive me,
I would have shared as much with you.
Hyp.
We would not make such an excuse then, Sir.
Miro.
You chide me nobly, I find, I need some rest.
And yet by all those powers, that caused these mischiefs,
My life shall end them, e're I'le be his prisoner.
Pys.
Nay, wee'l all dye; I hope 'tis no offence
To talk of saving our sweet lives;
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Must be our Garrison, 'tis ten to one,
But there we find some three or four brown loaves,
To victuall us for a day; perhaps a sample
Of good seed-Corn, lies in the parlour Cubbard;
We shall eat moderately, come we must advance
And storm it.
Hyp.
You have no other way Sir, we are so weak,
There is no refuge else, and we are still
Hotly pursued, if they intend our mischiefs,
We may hold out against that petty number,
If they raise more, we too shall have relief
By the Princesse, or your friends; if not,
We may make some Conditions.—
Miro.
A wretched shift, and yet it may preserve us,
But let us use it nobly: Heaven guide us.
Pys.
I'le advance, and knock: Within there! Ho!
[knock.
He struck so hard, the bason broke,—
Ho! what a Tarquin's here,
Enter Peter.
Pet.
Who have we here?
Pys.
Two or three strangers that have lost their way.
Pet.
And you would be directed.
Pys.
Pox on your nimble Charity;
[Aside.
We have been sett upon by thieves, and hurt,
And must desire some small refreshment.
Pet.
Why, this 'tis; The age is grown so perfect now,
That all fall's in the way of Begging,
And by the word Refreshment.
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Nay, Sir, none of your moralities on the age,
Help us to the speech of the Master,
Or Mistris of the house, It must be so, Sir;
Pet.
Here's neither.
Pys.
What the Devil i'st.
Pet.
A Lady.
Pys.
Plague on your formall Coxcomb.
Lets see your Lady then,
Pet.
That's more then shee'l do you.
Pys.
By this light, but she shall.
Pet.
Had she sworn so, she had been for-sworn;
Pys.
Sir, we would willingly be Civill,
Pray let's receive your Ladie's answer,
But no more of yours.
Pet.
You shall have it.—
[Exit.
Pys.
This Rogue has bagg pipes in his Lungs.
A meer Land-Remora, we wanted but the plague
To have heard his pedigree;
He had learn't the policy of the old Roman,
To ruine by delayes; we might have fainted
Under his wife Cunc-tator-ship.
Hyp.
'Twas a rare Scene, be sure, Pysenor,
You shall have none of the best drink.
Miro.
When she comes, you shall be chief,
And we your humble servants.
Pys.
And I'le be insolent enough: now Sir,
For such a Bird as the Princesse.
Miro.
Nay Pysenor.—
Pys.
Hang it, this love, 'twill make your wounds ranckle.
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Hark, I hear them rusling,
Enter Cæca, Ruinever, and Peter.
Mercy on us, what have we here,
December, with the too scurvy months at her heels?
She ha's dig'd up all her ancestors;
And wrap't their winding sheets about her,
I'le advance.
Cæca.
Where stands he, Peter?
Peter.
Straight on; now must not I proceed
For fear I should discover, she were blind.
Pys.
Whither a divell will she march
Hippasus, lie down in the way,
She goes straight on.
Hyp.
And be hanged, put on your serious face,
Pys.
Save you sweet Reverence.
Cæca.
Are you the Gentleman? Peter, is this he?
Pet.
Yes, forsooth.
Pys.
Slight, shee'd have her man make affidavit of it,
[aside.
We are those Madam, that would fain obtain
Some pitty in your eyes,—why,—shee's blind,
[aside.
Blind, as an old Do-Cunny.—
We want a Charity, and we hope
That your grave years, ha's taught you that fair story.
Cæca.
From whence come you?
Pys.
We are Gentlemen, and have been hurt by thieves.
You need not fear to help our hard misfortunes,
Our weak Conditions cannot threaten danger,
You may believe, we would deserve your kindnesse,
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Shall wait upon your beauty.
Hyp.
What a dissembling tongue the rogue has,
[aside.
Pys.
We went as long, as we could gain a leave
From weaknesse, as unwilling—
To be a burthen to any, but our fates
Threw us on you, for which we dare not chide them.
Hyp.
This rogue would court a bitch—
[aside.
Pys.
Sirrah, I'le fit you.—
Cæca.
A fine well-spoken gentleman.
Pys.
For if we did, we should be too unjust
For you must needs be good, because the gods
Let you so long live to instruct the world,
—Or else afraid of your blind company—
[aside.
But at your feet—
We throw our selves and all our miseries,
And cancell fear, whilst we expect to hear
Our doom from your fair lips.
Cæca.
Quinever.
Quin.
Madam.
Cæca.
I'st a handsome man?
Quin.
Yes indeed, as e're I saw.
Cæca.
I feel just such a Qualm, as I had
When I was still falling in love, he has a sweet tongue.
Noble gentleman, you're very welcome;
You shall have all you want, pray come neer:
Indeed, I am much taken with your speech,
'Tis very curteous, once in my youth
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And have not yet forgot them;
I shall remember them more fresh
If you repeat them.
Pys.
Why so, I shall be engaged to tell tales
[aside
In the chimney-corner.
Cæc.
Peter, Go in, get the best chambers ready;
Let them have something presently to eat.
Pray come in, you'r very welcom.
Your hand, good Sir.
Pys.
We are your servants. Now do I walk
Like the great Turk, that newly has put out
The eyes of an old kinswoman. Here we shall find
Good Fortune sure, for that whore too is blind.
[Exeunt.
SCEN. 4.
Enter King solus.Kin.
How much unknown is reall happinesse?
And all are cheated with the name of things?
Or we are all deceiv'd, or else the joy
Grows poor by the enjoyment, to me
A Crown's a glorious misery,
Suspition waits on all our appetites,
And sleep not pleases but affrights.
Kings have hard ways for to preserve a Crown,
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The way's but narrow between frowns and smiles,
To avoid both Contempt and Tyranny.
For either is a Rock to split upon
This glorious and frail Bark of Majesty;
When People do not ask, and yet Kings give,
Content and safety with them both may live.
But when they venture to reform the State,
Princes must suffer then
By their own fears, or by their people's hate.
They hide still what they mean in a redresse,
And know ill acts are buried with successe.
Seek peace in storms, and in disorder safety,
—Till in a Chaos they have felt
Constraint and Freedom undistinguisht dwelt.
Their first fond way to reach at Liberty
Is, to assault those they believe too high.
And had the gods not Thunder, sure there are
That would attempt—
—to light a Candle at a Star.
But Kings, like Suns, that at some time must pay
Their lustres in another Sphear, must leave
Stars fitted with influence to direct this night.
—Yet, like the Queen of Night, to know,
That to his beams their lustre they do owe.
O Symathocles, you'r welcom; Did you dispatch
What I directed you?
Enter Symathocles.
Sym,
I did, Sir; and the Troops were marching;
But the arrivall of the Princesse prevented.
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Is she come, then?
Sym.
But now arrived, Sir.
Kin.
'Tis well, Symathocles.
You have heard sure of the late accident:
'Tis odd; What think you?
Sym.
'Tis hard to guesse, Sir, easier far to doubt.
The Princesse must inform us all.
Kin.
I have suspended too my thoughts in this.
Haste is an ill companion still to Justice.
And whilst we hear at distance things unprov'd,
The story of their lives prevails still most,
That has been fair in Mironault. Yet our frailty
Guides us to unsuspected acts, so may the best of men
Fall to the least suspected crimes; that weaknesse
Crows with our years, and alteration's still
By Nature nurst.
Sym.
You have weighed, great Sir,
Things in so just and serious a scale,
That whilst thus evenly you preserve your mind,
You'l need no other Oracle; mean hasty fears
Still tyranny begets, non can deserve
Their safety, that attempt it that way
That poorly tells the world, he fears the reach
Of common hands; none but the Eagles gaze
Upon the Sun, unlesse it shrinck in clowds.
Nor do the common eyes attempt your glories,
Till shrouded in your fears. He's still most safe
That tells the world, He cannot be in danger,
For they'l believe it then, and 'tis most just,
If they will borrow fears, that he should trust.
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Takes its slow birth neither from fear nor passion.
And 'twill be fruit worthy a King to bear,
And bless the appetites of them that gather.
Kin.
You have hit my thoughts; See,
Enter Princess, Pylora, Followers.
Here comes more Information.
I'le see if she'l begin.
—Rise, you are welcom.
[Prin. kneels.
Prin.
I must not, Sir, till I receive
—more then a common Blessing—
Your Justice is enough to ease my fears.
Yet pardon me, if so much of Woman rules me,
To tell you all I suffer'd.
Kin.
What mean you?
Prin.
Great Sir, you might believe indeed
I should be undisturb'd, where you procure
Peace from your carefull thoughts. And sure it was
The child of Insolence and high Contempt
That durst attempt the rudenesse.
Kin.
It was so, but to the matter.
Prin.
When at my journey's end I was arrived,
Thither came Mironault in his own language
To pay a duty which he owed your child;
Where being scarcely rested, and resolved
With the next rising Sun to seek our sport,
But word was brought, the Castle was surrounded
By Soldiers, commanded by Phylanter;
Their businesse was for Mironault, who they said
Went to surprise me there, who onely came
With two brave friends, and I dare swear with thoughts
70
The Castle was be-set, seriously weighing
Not Justice sought his life but Treachery,
Disdain'd to fall upon so mean a score.
As an ungovern'd Torrent issues forth,
Bearing down all before it, and in the action
Finds its unknown power, when its streams
Are with a stop resisted, o're-whelming
What was believ'd beyond its power before.
So from resistance his disdaining rage
Atchiev'd a victory, which his thoughts
Would ne're have hop'd nor aim'd at; still Philanter's rage
Pursues his noble life. This is enough
Whilst you are just, nor need I to repeat
The injury to me.
Kin.
But they perhaps
Might have a secret message of the intent
Of Mironault, you would be loath I see
To have one testifie as much.
Prin.
You cannot find one so extreamly bad,
So far from being to himself a friend;
His story in the world has nobler truths,
Than to be fouled by any base accuser.
If all were true, it is your justice sure,
And not their furie, that should punish.
Kin.
For farther satisfaction of you; Who waits there?
Go call the Lord Albertus hither.
[Exit Messenger.
Prin.
In this petition too, Sir, joyns with me
This Maid, who from one womb
With the unhappy Mironault took her birth:
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And yet none needs to beg, for you are just:
Yet you must pardon those loves that mix with fears.
We oftner then we need wipe pretious Jewells.
His value makes us foolish.
Kin.
He is beholding to you—How now—
Enter Messenger.
Mess.
The Lord Albertus, Sir, is fled
As soon as he came from your Majesty,
He instantly took Horse.
Kin.
He was in haste—Symathocles—
Sym.
Sir.
Kin.
Gather the Forces in a readinesse
That were to meet my daughter, then wait
For further Orders.
Sym.
I shall, Sir.
[Exit Syma.
Kin.
Your pardon, fair Maid, that I seem'd so to forget you;
It onely was my care, you shall have justice
And should have had without an Advocate,
Your beauty though's a great one.
Amio.
The gods preserve your Majesty, with your years
May peace still grow, that give it unto others,
Till you shall go to have eternall rest.
Kin.
Thanks, gentle Maid, the rich Arabian Fumes
Are not so sweet to the delighted gods,
As thy calm prayers from thy harmlesse breast.
Come hither, Mirramente, I have not been
At leisure yet to bid thee kindly welcom.
Prin.
Pardon me, Sir, that I must once again
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Of my request, it is the child of gratitude.
I would in person, Sir, relieve
Him, that has suffer'd for my sake,
And in my sight contemn'd.
Kin.
Symathocles, would you not take it ill
To have a Generall put o're your head?
Sym.
Not, if it may serve you, Sir.
Kin.
Look here, Symathocles, this Amazon has begg'd it.
Sym.
She does the better, Sir, if there be danger
From her fair name we all shall fight in safety.
Kin.
Well, take your course, on more intelligence
Move as you please.
[Exit King.
Sym.
Excellent Princesse,
—How happy I am now to be your Soldier,
Let those be judge that would be sure of victory,
So fair a Cause fought by so fair a Generall,
—Can never be forsaken
By Victory or Fortune—
Prin.
I thank you, Sir, nor can I think my self
Lesse happy in so brave a Soldier; if you please
For to dispatch before for some intelligence,
Wee'l instantly away.
Sym.
With all speed, Madam.
[Exit Syma.
Manent Princess & Amione.
Amio.
Excellent Princesse;
Which way to tell you all my heart returns
I know not, the gods in blessings thank you,
Who still assist the innocent and mean,
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Prin.
I thank you gentle Maid, from hence my friend,
You cannot cheat my confidence, you'l deserve it,
So does your Brother all my best assistance,
I reckon it my happinesse, to procure
Your joyes and safety; that I may then
Have mine more perfect.
Amio.
Now all the powers defend, they should not be:
You never sure broke yet an houres repose
With a disturbing dream; in that calme harbour,
All thoughts have been secur'd from storm,
May they be ever so.—
Prin.
Thy brother's cause deserves as much as that.
—A thousand blushes stop me,—
[aside.
Besides thou mayest be much deceived: the shipwrack past,
The calmest waters may conceal the fate,
As well as the insulting waves,
—Why doest thou weep.—
Amione weeps.
Amio.
To hear, you have been sad, O Madam,
Pardon me, to say an undiscerned power
Joynes my affliction to your grief;
Forgive me that, I cannot chuse but dare,
To accompany you in any thing.
There's something tells me, that I ought to love you
More then the world does, yet that's very much.
Prin.
When I first saw thee, dearest maid,
I could have sworn as much,
And yet thou didst not please me then,
Come, I shall disturb thee, 'tis an unkindnesse
74
Amio.
Now you afflict me more: Is there a way,
To be a friend and stranger to your breast,
Though 'tis ambition, to be an humble one?
'Tis vertue, not your greatnesse crowns my wishes,
And I shall fear, that you will think me only
A friend to that, or else not worth the other.
Prin.
I do not doubt thy Love, the story will
Disturb me, when I tell it, perhaps thee,
And yet it must return to me unhelpt.
Amio.
How do you know? the meanest thing in nature,
May bring an unexpected aid; Gyants that passe,
And lets the obstacles alone, do lesse
Then dwarfs that do remove them: as they are
Shut in your breast, fed with that pretious food,
How can they ever starve? they may at last
Consume your stock of joyes, he does like you,
That would defend, within a fair built Fort,
His enemies against his pressing friends
And patiently destroyed by those he saved,
If you believe me worthy, the gods have then
Finish't their parts; for they decreed us most
To one anothers aid: So to encrease
Our joyes that way, and lessen all our cares,
For still imparted comforts do increase,
And grief divided to a friend grows lesse,
Our natures too are like o'recharged springs,
Willing to vent themselves, and so are you,
Had I but as much worth, as you have trouble.
Prin.
I am not proof against thy perfect kindnesse,
75
You quickly understand me, my blushes too
Will tell thee half the storie, what dos't guesse?
Amio.
That you should have no cares—
Prin.
Can love have any?
Amio.
What in this world shall ever be so happy?
I hope it is not that—
Prin.
And why?
Amio.
A thousand times I have heard my brother pray
That day might never be, I wish as he does too.
Prin.
Your Brother would not have me then?
—How innocent she is!—
[aside.
Amio.
He thinks it were unreasonable
That one alone should make the world unhappy.
Weighing their own misfortunes from his joy's
I hope it is not that:
Prin.
'Tis that I swear. Love has caused all my trouble,
And if thy brother thinks me such a blessing
Why doth not he then wish it?
Amio.
Alas he dares not welcome such a thought
He onely dares to wish none else should have you;
But who must be so happy?
Prin.
Your Brother.
Amio.
Madam?
Prin.
Wonder no more, I could have told
When I first saw thee that me-thought I lov'd thee
As I would do a sister; yet I was jealous too:
Nay I shall blush, as much as thou canst wonder,
Yet he deserves my Love; sure you did then
76
Disorderd by my fears;
Amio.
O Madam,—
—Pardon me to say the gods have justly so
Decreed that it should be: for I have heard
Him sit and please himself with stories of you,
Till he has made his griefs too monstrous,
And I thought then too prodigall of comfort,
Yet now I think't was all but due to you;
And though I am turnd of his religion too
And can think nothing superstition in't,
Yet you may spare the sacrifice.
Prin.
Sweetest maid,
I have some reason to believe he loves me,
He cannot sure dissemble; Wert thou ne're yet in love?
Amio.
Never;
Prin.
Pray that thou never mayst, or that it ne're
Have fears for it's Companions, night will wear
Disturbing blacknesse and not quiet shades,
The light will be too cheerfull, whilst you fare
Like an impatient Sea-man that would fain
Attain the Port, the gentlest calm
Makes mad, and crossing storms disturbs
But from our own experience thus we raise
Advices that are chid and and scorn'd by Fate
Who oftnest sends what we least wish, and makes
What we most covet most unfortunate:
But now to his relief, for time
Persues his course with an impartiall haste
And my revenge must sit upon his wings.
77
Their thoughts were poor, that trifled time and wisht.
[Exeunt.
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